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Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer? for SAT 2025 is part of SAT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the SAT exam syllabus. Information about Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for SAT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer?.

Solutions for Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer? in English & in Hindi are available as part of our courses for SAT. Download more important topics, notes, lectures and mock test series for SAT Exam by signing up for free.

Here you can find the meaning of Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer? defined & explained in the simplest way possible. Besides giving the explanation of Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer?, a detailed solution for Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer? has been provided alongside types of Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. Can you explain this answer? theory, EduRev gives you an ample number of questions to practice Question based on the following passage.This passage is adapted from Marie Myung-Ok Lee, Somebody’s Daughter. ©2006 Beacon Press. The story is about a Korean-American girl adopted by an American family and raised in the Midwest.When I was eight, they told me that my mother’sdeath was preordained. She had been murdered.One Sunday after service, our minister,Reverend Jansen of the Lutheran Church of the(5)Good Shepherd, bent down in a cloud of AquaVelva to explain. We had been learning in Sundayschool about Heaven and Hell, and in the middleof class I had fallen into a panic, wondering howI would recognize my Korean mother when I saw(10)her in Heaven—or in Hell, if perhaps she and Iboth sinned too much.Not to worry, I was told.“God called your Korean parents home sothat you could become the daughter of your(15)mother and father,” he said, his eyes slidingsidewise, for just a second. His breath smelledvaguely of toast.“It was all part of His plan—you see how muchyour mommy and daddy love you? When the time(20)comes, if you’re a very good girl, you, your mommy,daddy, and your sister, Amanda—the wholeThorson family—will be in heaven together, thanksto the Lord’s wonderful and mysterious ways.”“That’s why we named you Sarah,” Christine(25)and Ken added. “Because it means ‘God’sprecious treasure.’”God kills, I thought then. The same God whobrought us Christmas and the Easter Bunny—hemurdered my mother.(30)Shortly after that Sunday, I brought upmy Korean mother again, asking about the caraccident, how it happened, exactly—was it likePhil Haag’s father, who fell asleep at the wheel? Orlike our plumber’s teenage son who drove into a(35)semi head-on?“Sarah,” Christine said patiently, lookingup from the chopping board, where she wasslicing carrot discs for pot roast. “We really knewnothing about her. I’m your mommy. Let’s not(40)talk about this any more, it makes me sad.” Shemade little crying motions, pretending to wipeaway tears, the same thing she did when I wasbad, to show how I had disappointed her.I grew up in a house in which Korea had(45)always been the oddly charged word, never to bementioned in connection to me, the same waywe never said “Uncle Henry” and “alcoholic” inthe same sentence. It was almost as if Ken andChristine thought I needed to be protected from(50)it, the way small children need to be protectedfrom boors itching to tell them that Santa Clausis not real.The ban on Korea extended even tothe aforementioned Uncle Henry, who was thendeprived of his war stories at our Memorial Day(55)cookouts. Although he proudly wore his felt VFWhat with its flurry of pins, including ones from histour “overseas,” Christine or Ken would quietlyslip him some of his favorite Pabst or Schlitz, andin return he’d set up residence in the lawn chair(60)at the far corner of our yard, away from everyone.Somewhere back in the fuzzy clot of myteens (now, I’m at the worldly-wise age of almost-twenty), the ’88 Summer Olympics were heldin Seoul. We couldn’t buck the Thorson family(65)tradition of watching absolutely everything (thatwinter we’d raptly watched curling, for God’ssakes!). But I was aware that pains were takento modulate voices, vocal cords twisted to anexcruciating, studied casualness until Korea(70)came out “Korea,” exactly the same way we’d say“Russia” or “Carl Lewis” or “Flo-Jo.”Then Bryant Gumbel invaded our living roomwith his special segment on how Korea, one of thefour “Little Tiger” economic miracle countries,(75)was so enterprising that it had even made anexport product out of its babies. Since the KoreanWar, more than a hundred thousand children,Made-in-Korea stamped on their foreheads, hadleft the country, their adoption fees fattening the(80)government coffers.Top that, Singapore! Gumbel’s cheery smirkseemed to say.“Well, Sarah’s really American, not Kor—”Amanda began, until the look on Christine’s(85)face—despairing, fierce—stopped her.We invent what becomes us.Q. Lines 36–44 chiefly describe Christine’sa)cunning deceitfulness.b)sense of superiority.c)motherly sympathy.d)emotional immaturity.Correct answer is option 'D'. 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